Pool parties are the bane of the chubby girl's existence.

I'm going to a pool party this afternoon, and it will doubtless be fun. But I am completely, wholly, and utterly terrified. Why? Because I'll be the only fat girl there. Now before I lose you, this isn't about woe is me or anything as trite as that. And this isn't me hating what I am; I say fat because that's what it is. I believe in naming the thing, not renaming it in hopes it will be different; there's more power and happiness in truth than there is in imagination. But I digress.

These people are my friends, some of them friends I like quite a bit. I trust most all of them not to look cross-eyed at me, or make a rude remark. I wouldn't go if there was a chance of that happening, obviously. But here's the thing about being the only friend that's different--you're different. And when it's because you're fat, as I'm sure it is with most anything, there is the added stigma of guilt. You're different because you aren't good enough to be the same, yadda, yadda, yadda. Same old song and dance, different state, different year.

And that's the crappy part. This isn't a new feeling. This is the feeling I've had since I was ten and we swam in gym class for the first time. This is the feeling I get every time I walk out in a bathing suit by myself. Granted, I walk out anyway because nobody tells me what to do (something that's actually been a negative thing at times) but the feeling is still there. That damn sense of "Oh no, they're all gonna laugh at me!"

And it's silly. Nobody doesn't know what I look like. It isn't as if I put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and I'm suddenly mistaken for a size 6. Oh my god! You're in a bathing suit and you're HUGE! But our culture is permeated not only with revulsion at unattractive things (and I'm using unattractive here in the most societal sense) but also with guilt at being unattractive. Think of all the times we close our eyes and say, "I don't want to see that!" or "A little consideration please!" Sometimes these thoughts are justifiable, such as in the case of spandex or mullets, but often it's just because it's a fat person in clothes we don't like.

So all of this is a long-winded way of saying: this isn't a new feeling, nobody is going to stop being my friend because I'm fat, yes I love who I am, go me. But it's also a way of acknowledging the stigma. We're back to that truth thing. It would be more pleasant for everyone, myself included, if we could all pretend that it's what's on the inside that matters (think Care Bears) and nobody looks at you differently when you aren't classically beautiful, but that would be a lie. If I put on a bathing suit today and actually was a size 6 (think selling soul to devil for new body) not only would everyone be shocked, but they would compliment me, they would congratulate me, and, probably, some of the guys would hit on me. This is simply a fact of life, and I know it to be true because it's happened before.

Because the fact of the matter is, nobody wants to sleep with an ugly person. I say that plainly and, perhaps, harshly, because it is true. The catch is what we define as ugly. Often times, what we think of as ugly changes with age, friendships, and personalities, but when we sketch our fantasy in our mind nine times out of ten we sketch something society considers beautiful. And it is that impulse towards societal beauty that makes the pool party so difficult. That causes this feeling I'm discussing right now. Because even though all my friends will still be my friends after this afternoon there will be the moment when their eyes register that I'm not physically what I'm supposed to be. And then they'll flinch. Just a little; just a slight twitching of the eye. But it will happen because it always happens. And then I have to pretend like I didn't notice and that no, it doesn't bother me at all. I really hate that part.

And I do it to. I love Jack Black, but when I fantasize I'm imagining a Spartan. I get it. I get the mindset because I'm aware of the times I too have the mindset; the times my eyes do the half-flinch when I see someone that is startling in their difference from the norm. And that's what it really boils down to. Being different. Oh the cliché, it makes me weep for it's Hallmark predictability. I like being different. I want to be different. I actually wouldn't be anyone else if given the option. But sometimes, just sometimes I get tired of standing there and smiling while someone quickly deals with my difference; sometimes I just want to be one of the group instead of making a stand, in a very literal sense, and fighting the good fight for my difference to exist.

So that's why pool parties are the bane of the chubby girl's existence. And that's while I go, walk slowly and purposefully to the pool, get in and have a great time.